To the Jaws
by Vulcanchicks
Summary: There's a lot more to the Frankenturrets than most people see. What would possess you to sell your soul to Aperture? What do you have to gain, and is it truly worth what you stand to lose? Rated T for emotional abuse and mild language.
1. Again

I looked around the room, twiddling my thumbs absentmindedly as I observed the quirky posters adorning the walls.

"Know your allergens," I read aloud, my voice echoing through the largely empty room. "Pollen." Yep, that was a biggie. Conveniently, it was only the pollen belonging to the plants that grew around my wooded home that bothered me. "Animal dander." I frowned, recalling the time I learned I was allergic to cats. I loved those cats, but my immune system didn't care. The allergy grew rapidly, quickly encompassing most common household pets. Cats, ferrets, rabbits, everything. Well, everything except dogs, the only animal I never had the opportunity to encounter. "Plastics." I considered myself lucky to have avoided allergies to synthetic materials thus far. "Anti-matter." A small smile spread across my face. Really? Didn't think you could be allergic to _that_. I shrugged. Well if the scientists say you can be allergic to anti-matter—

The door swung open, revealing a squat, balding man in a pristine lab coat. "Are you ready?" he asked in a nasal tone, producing a small notebook and pencil from his pocket.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

He barely seemed to notice my response as he scribbled a few notes to himself. He certainly looked the part, but the sudden knot in my stomach was inspiring more than a little doubt.

"Come with me." His idle tone wasn't helping, but I had come too far to back down now. I trailed obediently behind him.

At the end of the hall, he typed a code into the keypad on the door. It unlocked with a click, and the scientist disappeared inside.

5581, I noted silently. Wonder what it means…

"Please stay with me." He was waiting impatiently for me a good ways down the corridor, and I hurried to catch up, that is until I noticed the fascinating structures lining the walls.

"Lab equipment," he droned, following my gaze. "Please stay close to me so that you don't get lost. Don't touch, stare or stop, no matter how much you may be inclined to."

I smirked a little. It was almost as if he were a machine.

After a few minutes of winding halls and unenthusiastic warnings, we stopped in front of a scratched metal door labeled with a long, blocky number. He typed another passcode, and it slid back, revealing a sparse and dimly-lit room with only a wheeled cabinet, a cushioned table and a machine that I could only assume was a monitor of some sort.

"Please lie down," he requested, gesturing to the table. "And the preparations can begin."

I did as I was told, trying to clear my racing mind of any second thoughts that were resurfacing. This was no time to get cold feet.

He reached into some slits in the thin old padding and brought out some equally old and unpleasant-looking buckles, fastening them quickly around my wrists, ankles and waist. I panicked.

"Remain calm," he insisted. "It's all part of the protocol."

I stopped squirming, but my heart pounded more fiercely than ever as he connected the monitor's wires to my torso.

Be brave, I told myself. Remember what you're doing this for. A new life. A second chance. One without pain. Only knowledge…

He took a syringe from the rolling cabinet and injected it into my arm. "A sedative," he assured me as my vision started to blur. "To ensure that you—" That was the last time I ever heard him.

My next memory was looking up at the ceiling, a _different_ ceiling. This one was a rusty brown, a stark contrast to the offwhite color that had covered the entirety of the other room. And were those vines growing between the tiles?

"Just look at you, love," purred a Bristolian man's voice overhead. "What a beautiful piece of work you are."

I tried to sit up, but I couldn't. My body was too stiff. "Could I have a hand here?" But the sounds I made only came out as an awful mechanical gurgle. Panicking, I tried to lift a hand to my face. What had once been my arm was now a thin, jointed metal bar that slightly resembled a tripod leg. I let out a loud clicking cry of terror only to be hushed by the voice.

All at once, I felt terribly cold and alone. This was my new life, the one I had dreamed of for so long. Only this was nothing like it should be. My attempt to give myself a second chance at life had completely backfired, driving me irreversibly into the bowels of hell. Again.


	2. Sting

The Master watched intently from an enormous screen mounted on the wall, his piercing blue optic swiveling from the large red button on the floor to His many little monstrosities crawling about the floor. I tried to ignore His critical gaze, putting all my strength into my hop, but as always, it never got me more than a few inches. That and it was nearly impossible to change direction. But even so, I was still alive.

A shiver ran through me, jostling some of my looser internal parts. Each of us, "the Creatures" as the phantom voice had called us over the loudspeaker, was comprised of the better part of a large cube, which served as a makeshift body, and two heads, each with control over one of the two tripod legs and each with its own personality. And that was where the real trouble was. When one personality was dormant, the other had full control, but when the other went online as well, it was a different story entirely.

It hadn't been long before my partner personality came to. It had chirped warmly to me as a greeting only to stab at my neck with its needle-like leg moments later. A wave of panic swept over me as it was buried under one of my facial plates, and I jerked my head away, only to be rewarded with a jolt of pain and a shower of sparks as it was torn free of my face. Something inside me snapped, and the next thing I knew, my leg was driven deep into the vulnerable circuitry beneath the other head's facial plates. It had let out a sputtering cry, twitching pathetically as its optic flickered and went out.

Before I could process what had happened, a strange feeling swept over me, my consciousness seeping into the vacated mechanical corpse. The second head came back online, doubling by field of vision, and I was able to will the other leg into motion. I had expelled the other entity from the shell we had shared, permanently expunging its existence.

I had won. I was the victor, but I couldn't have felt like less of one. I was a murderer.

The Master's exasperated cries brought me back to the present. "For God's sake, you're boxes! _With legs._" His words struck deep, sending an unpleasant buzz through my system, and I winced, trying to block them out. The disdain dripping from His voice was all too familiar.

Like countless other young children, math was a subject that had not come as easily for me as the others had, and at one point in late elementary school, there had been a series of small tests that hadn't gone so well. Grades were everything in my house, and needless to say, my dad had been absolutely livid.

"Go to the basement," he had growled after the discovery. "Now."

Trembling, I had obeyed, fearful of what was to come. He hadn't struck me since the last time I had been spanked, which to my young mind had seemed like a grateful eternity ago, but I could never be too sure. It was hard to say whether I was more afraid of his unpredictable temper or of the verbal onslaught I could guarantee was soon to come.

He led me to the laundry room, yanked the large cleaning supply carrier from one of the plastic shelves beyond my reach and thrust it at me. I took it without question and followed him back to the upstairs bathroom. He motioned for me to set it down, quickly snatching the toilet brush from its holder and shoving it into my hands.

"Clean it," he hissed, a demanding finger jabbed at the toilet.

I'd never cleaned a toilet at my young age. The momentary look of confusion I must've given him was enough to spark an outrage.

"Clean it!" His roar echoed, sending me into a fit of uncontrollable terrified sobs.

He pushed me towards the toilet. "Do you know why you're going to clean it?" he sneered. "Because you're terrible at math. _Terrible_. And at this rate, the only job you'll ever get, one that doesn't require math, is a _janitor_."

I could feel my heart being torn to bits. All my other grades were good, A's even! And I still had many years ahead of me that I could use to repair any issues I had in math.

"So start practicing!" he spat, slamming the bathroom door in my face. The room was silent, save for the sound of my heartbroken sobbing.

One of the other Creatures bumped into me, nearly knocking me over. I regained my balance just as the Master's voice boomed from the screen once more.

"It's _literally_ your only purpose! Walking onto buttons!" I let out a small croak, the weight of His berating comments piling onto me.

Several years had passed since I had been told to polish my janitorial skills, and my math had gotten better, though it was still one of my weaker subjects. However, high school classes were now the very least of my troubles.

I got out of my friend's car and walked up the sidewalk to the house, cheerfully humming a showtune to myself. My mood couldn't have been better.

Walking into the house, I chirped a hello and went up to drop my backpack off in my room before having dinner. I sat on my bed, fishing through my bag's contents for the night's homework. I didn't notice my parents standing in the doorway.

"We got a call today," said my dad dryly.

I looked up from my tinkering, my heart racing. I had a sinking feeling in my gut that I knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Someone saw you," my mom added.

"Caught you," he corrected with a growl. I winced. "And now _my_ reputation is on the line because of you!"

"The family's reputation!" she continued. "Your _siblings'_ reputations!"

"And you know what they'll call you?" he snarled. "A lesbian slut."

My mouth went dry, and I braced myself on the mattress, trying desperately to maintain my poker face. Of all the cruel things he'd ever said to me, this was the crown jewel.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. The only thing I truly remembered was that crushing blow of words that spun on an endless record in my head until it became a deafening cacophony that dimmed all other thought.

Another Creature butted me from behind, urging me forward, and I got out of its way as fast as I could.

"How can you not do the one thing you're designed for?" The Master's words rang out again, their utter contempt causing me to lose control of my inherited parts.

I had felt the alarm buzz of my phone in my pocket. If I didn't hurry, I'd be late to class. I urged my aching legs to pedal faster, and the bike responded beautifully, sending a sudden rush of wind through my hair. I could do this.

Weaving between the pedestrians on the sidewalk, I saw my destination pop up over the hill. Another minute, and I'd be there, on time. Finally, the homestretch! In front of me was a dressed-up young woman walking at a painfully slow pace. Easy, I'd go around her. Coming towards me was a rather grumpy-looking man with graying hair wearing a trench coat and dragging a suitcase. No big deal. I could make this.

I rolled to the center of the path to move in front of the woman, but she sped up exactly as the man stopped dead in his tracks. I was blocked off. I squeezed the breaks, almost losing control of the bike. I managed to not hit the woman and to stay upright, but at a price: my handlebar brushed the man's hand.

I immediately came to a complete stop and turned to him, offering my sincerest apologies.

"Jesus _Christ!_" he yelled. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

Whatever words I had intended to speak dried up, leaving me with nothing to do but stare and take in the sting. I'd never seen this curmudgeon before, much less talked to him, but the anger in his voice resonated, shaking me to the core. I could hear my dad in every word.

It blasted its way through the emotional dam I'd put up to block the memories, and it took every ounce of strength and composure I could muster to simply not break down in the middle of that path and cry. I had to look away, so I stared down at the concrete.

"This is a sidewalk," he hissed. "Not a bike path." And with that, he was gone. The rest of the day's classes would be a nightmare. All I could do was sit there, trying to mend the dam.

The tiny metallic leg that had once belonged to the other personality gave way, and my box of a body fell on its side. My willpower was drained. I gurgled, curled my heads and legs into the malformed shell and shut down my optics. No more.


	3. Taste

My gyroscopic sensors were flooded with information. I was being picked up. I can't recall how long ago I put myself in sleep mode. My optics flared to life, revealing a young woman with a dark ponytail and a look of fierce but solemn determination in her steely-blue eyes. Her presence was intimidating, and I couldn't help but tremble.

As she put me down, my needlelegs came out, holding me back in a standing position. She ran to the big red button and used the strange device on her arm to lift another Creature, dropping its shaking form onto the pad.

The Master, who had previously turned off the screen, reappeared. He laughed triumphantly. "I knew you'd solve it!"

"Hey, moron!" challenged a potato with a single, glowing yellow eye from the end of the woman's device.

"Oh," He replied, a note of interest obvious in his voice. "Hello."

"Alright," said the potato, seemingly to the woman. "Paradox time."

The woman nodded.

"This. Sentence. Is. False!" the vegetable's words were punctuated and deliberate. "Dontthinkaboutit, dontthinkaboutit, dontthinkabout—"

The Creature on the button and several others nearby sparked and short-circuited, their already-weak bodies unable to process the paradox. A small series of clicks escaped my vocal processors as a small surge ran through me. I was back to normal in a few moments. The others however, were not. Their optics had gone dark, and their legs no longer clawed wildly at the air. They were dead.

"Um, true," the Master said, flexing His plates with a nod. "I'll go true."

The potato proceeded to squabble with Him about the facility's impending explosion, but I paid them no mind. That shock, that tiny little shock that upset my system, _that_ had been a taste of freedom, a taste of death, my only way out.

I looked desperately to the woman and the potato and gurgled, hoping to get their attention, praying that either of them would utter another paradox and finish me. I took a couple hops in their direction, but only in vain. The woman was leaving the chamber, potato in tow.

It was over. They were my last hope for freedom, and they were gone.

The sole remaining Creature, I stretched out my legs to lay myself on the cold metal ground before shutting down again. I would be going into deep sleep mode this time, and maybe, if I were lucky, I would never wake up.


End file.
